


In Shining Armour

by Ceia



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Dirty Talk, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, Junkrat's dirty mouth strikes again, Romance, This is tropey as fuck okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-21 23:05:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15568347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceia/pseuds/Ceia
Summary: Angela doesn't care if he's the hero or the villain. All she cares about is whether or not he's hers.





	In Shining Armour

**Author's Note:**

> This is a modern high school AU that was supposed to be a drabble for a kiss prompt and got slightly out of hand. Thank you so much to [Sneepy](http://time-for-mayhem.tumblr.com/) for betaing this for me!

* * *

  
_I’ve been up late writing books_  
_All about heroes and crooks_  
_One of them saves you from this_  
_The other one steals you, and then_  
_Sure things fall_

-Yellowcard  
 

* * *

Angela missed the end-of-semester prom today.

Well, missed isn’t quite the right word. None of the well-to-do boys at school who have her parents’ approval asked her to it. They were probably too intimidated by the notorious Zieglers to risk inviting their precious daughter out for the evening. Angela wasn’t particularly looking forward to attending the prom without a date, so when her anemia left her lightheaded this morning and she was subsequently prescribed a day of bed rest—prevented, once again, from leaving the house at all—it was more of a blessing, really. An opportunity to wear her dress for a few hours wouldn’t be worth the texts and calls reminding her of her curfew, anyway.

Besides all of that, the only boy Angela wanted to go with is forbidden from setting foot in the house, or indeed anywhere near it. But he’s also the only boy who isn’t afraid of Angela’s parents, and the only boy capable of climbing the enormous chestnut tree outside her window.

So, Angela missed the prom today, but she didn’t really _miss_ it, either.

Her bedroom is on the uppermost floor of the house. It’s a three-staircase climb that reminds Angela of the fairytales she used to read as a child, specifically the one about the princess with flowing blonde hair. Lying in bed waiting for her rescuer to come, Angela can’t help thinking of Rapunzel, even though her hair isn’t that long and she isn’t a princess. Her parents aren’t comparable to the witch who kept Rapunzel locked in the tower, either, but it is a little frustrating that she finds herself increasingly house-bound when she’s going to be seventeen soon.

Her phone says it’s 12:43am when she hears them, the three taps on the window indicating his arrival. Angela slips out of bed and shuffles into her slippers to soften her footsteps, though her parents are all the way down on the ground floor. Sure enough, Jamie is on the other side when she draws the curtains, his palms flat on the glass as he crouches on the window ledge. Angela worries about him doing this, afraid he’s going to break his legs if not his neck falling down someday. But she isn’t selfless enough to ask him to stop visiting her, so she opens the window to let him inside.

“You alright?” Jamie asks, an edge of panic to it that tugs Angela’s heart. Once he’s on his feet and straightened up Jamie grabs her shoulders, amber eyes darting over her body for any sign of injury. Angela doesn’t feel as self-conscious as she should only wearing a buttoned nightshirt and shorts. They’re satin, picked out especially when she knew he was coming.

“I’m—I’m fine,” Angela says. She hasn’t put the light on yet, so Jamie’s bright eyes are the only part of him she can see clearly.

“They didn’t hurt ya, did they?”

“What? Jamie, no, they’re my parents!”

“Yeah, s’why I’m asking,” Jamie says, bitterly. He hasn’t let go of her shoulders. “Y’said you were sick. In your text. Are ya?”

“Ah. Well, I’m not, of course.” Angela can’t really say a lot over text because her parents read all of her messages. She has Jamie down in her contacts as ‘Susie’. They have to use codewords whenever he wants to visit her. “I’m really sorry to have worried you.”

“S’alright,” Jamie says, exhaling. “Guessed that was the case. Lena and them lot said they were probably after an excuse to stop ya from going tonight.”

“And they were right. But I’m fine, honestly.”

Jamie kicks off his worn sneakers and joins Angela on her bed. She switches the bedside lamp on and kneels in front of him.

“Sorry I’m a bit late this time, I—”

“Oh my god!” Angela says, cupping Jamie’s face in her hands. There’s a line of dried blood running from his nose that’s spilled out over his hoodie, staining it even more. “What happened?!”

Jamie offers a nervous titter of a laugh and scratches his head.

“Nothin’!” he says, unconvincingly shrill. “S’just—just a nosebleed, that’s all!”

“Oh really?” Angela says, scowling. She takes Jamie’s hands and holds them up, drawing his attention to his own bloodied knuckles. “Then what about this? Hm? Is this nothing, too?”

“Uh,” Jamie says, eloquently. Angela lets go and folds her arms, waiting for an explanation. Jamie tries to smile at her.

“’Kay, so I _kiiiinda_ got into a… a tiff, shall we say, on my way here."

“A ‘tiff’.”

“Okay, yeah, maybe—a fight. But just a little one! Honest!”

Angela has a first-aid kit in her en-suite bathroom, so she brings it out and opens it up. Jamie winces when she rubs the antiseptic solution over his knuckles.

“Bloody stings, that,” he says, giving her one of his hurt looks. Angela is immune to them. He’s always been in trouble for bad behaviour at school, but Jamie got into a fight in the Lindholm’s neighbouring garden about six months ago. Apparently he was sleeping with Brigitte, who Angela has known since they were both children, and Brigitte’s boyfriend wasn’t too happy about it after he found out. Angela’s parents weren’t home at the time, so she hurried out and brought Jamie inside to pat the blood on his lip and offer an icepack for his blackening eye.

He’s been coming back ever since, sometimes for Angela’s first-aid kit and sometimes to check on her when she’s been kept home from school, like she was today. Recently, though, Jamie has come to see her more often. He visited last weekend after attempting to get into one of the clubs in town, which had resulted in yet another split lip. Jamie is seventeen already, the tallest in their year thanks to an astronomical growth spurt, but he hasn’t filled out enough to get away with duping bouncers yet. He’s scrawny, all gangly limbs and pointed features, but his shoulders are becoming quite broad and he’s strong enough to climb the tree leading up to Angela’s bedroom. If the Fawkes family weren’t so poor and he had a better diet, Jamie could probably be a rugby player.

“You’re going to be excluded from school if you keep getting into fights,” Angela says, wrapping a line of bandage around his knuckles. Jamie puffs out a laugh.

“So what if I am? School’s a crock of shit anyway.”

“It will make finding work very difficult.”

“Don’t need certificates to sell weed, Ange.”

Angela exhales through her nose. She doesn’t want to believe that this is truly all Jamie has lined up for himself when he leaves school, but then, unlike her, he at least has the freedom to decide.

He’s looking down at her bedding, pastel pink cotton beneath the ragged hems of his jeans. Angela is done bandaging his hands now. She holds onto them, bringing them into her lap. Jamie’s fingers are bony, much longer than hers. They’re sitting so close that her knees are pressed against his crossed legs.

“If you are excluded, we won’t be able to see each other so often,” Angela says, tracing lines between the freckles on the flat of Jamie’s hand.

“Don’t get to see much of you in school anyway,” Jamie says. He’s smiling but his brows are furrowed when she meets his eyes, and it makes her feel bad for mentioning school. Angela is a straight-A student taking all the advanced classes, while Jamie is lagging behind a year and seems to spend most of his time sat outside the headteacher’s office. Their friendship groups are chalk and cheese, so they smile at each other as they pass in the corridors, and that’s about it.

Angela busies herself dabbing the dried blood under his nose while Jamie picks at the frayed sleeves of his hoodie. She likes patching him up like this, the personal nature of nursing someone and providing immediate care. Being a nurse seems more rewarding than being a cold and clinical doctor.

“I’d miss you if you left,” Angela says, gently.

“Y’say that like I’m going anywhere,” Jamie scoffs. “I’m fucking stuck here. Not like you, Miss Doctor-in-training.” He grins at her, patting her bare thighs. “You’re going places, you are!”

Angela manages a humourless laugh. Her parents have planned out the next ten years of her life: university and medical school hundreds of miles away from here, culminating in her name on a brushed metal placard in their surgery. It’s so depressing that she tries to avoid talking about it, but Jamie has started mentioning it almost every time he comes over, like he’s trying to needle a discussion out of her. Angela would rather pretend it isn’t happening than face the reality of having no say in her future. It’s a reality that’s coming frighteningly soon, though. She’ll be in her senior year after the summer holidays.

“There,” Angela says, balling the bloodied antiseptic wipe. “You’re all clean now.”

“Wouldn’t go that far,” Jamie says, waggling his eyebrows at her. Angela’s laugh is genuine this time. She plucks a fresh wipe to dab over the rest of his face, rubbing off the dirt that’s accumulated from a few days without washing. The only decent showers he gets are the ones in the school changing rooms. He smells of cigarette smoke more than sweat, anyway.

“Okay, now you _are_ clean.”

“Ta babe,” Jamie says, stroking his chin appreciatively while Angela packs away the first-aid supplies. He doesn’t call her babe very often, but it never fails to make her stomach flip over when he does.

Angela’s been crushing on Jamie since sixth grade. It was after they had to work together on some chemistry project, but before his big growth spurt. She’s noticed that lots of other girls look at him now that he’s over six foot tall, apparently unfazed by his questionable afterschool hobbies—drinking, smoking, and shoplifting. Jamie doesn’t seem to have any problem getting girlfriends, the type of girls who must be attracted to those things, but Angela likes everything else about him—his laugh, his smile, the cute little mole on his nose. The way he looks at her when she’s putting bandages on him. How small she feels in his arms when he’s hugging her goodbye, enveloping her as though he doesn’t want to let her go. Jamie probably thinks of Angela as his sister, the only thought that’s more crushing than the prospect of working under her parents for the rest of her life.

“By the way, I uh—gotcha somethin’,” Jamie says, rummaging in the front pocket of his hoodie.

“Oh,” Angela says, leaning slightly away from him. She’s afraid it’s going to be more stolen jewellery she’ll have to reject, so it’s a surprise when Jamie pulls out a small bundle of flowers. He holds it out to her, scratching his cheek with his other hand.

“All the girls were wearin’ ‘em,” Jamie says, with a sheepish smile. “Wasn’t sure you’da gotten one.”

“I—I didn’t, no,” Angela says, breathlessly. She never imagined Jamie giving her something like this. An actual corsage, like he really had been her date tonight. It’s beautiful, a delicate arrangement of blushed roses and silk ribbon that has survived well in his pocket.

“Whaddya think?” Jamie asks, hopefully, watching her straighten out the ribbon. Angela loves it, but corsages are expensive for what they are and an extortionate amount of money for Jamie, whose part-time job at the supermarket makes him the highest earner in his household.

“You didn’t—you didn’t buy this, did you?” Angela asks, afraid there isn’t going to be a good answer either way.

“Nah, saw it on some bird after the prom,” Jamie says, casually. “Her fella didn’t like it when I said it’d look better on someone else, but I was, er. Able to _negotiate_ with him, put it that way!”

“Jamie!” Angela says, dismayed by the horrid truth behind his bloodied knuckles and bleeding nose. She tries to thrust the corsage back on him but he won’t let her.

“Come on, Ange, I punched the poor bloke’s lights out for this!” Jamie laughs, making her groan. “You deserve it more than that ugly bint!”

Oh. Angela gazes at him, hating that she’s so flattered by this, by the thought of him looking at other girls and comparing them unfavourably to her.

“Here, lemme put it on for ya,” Jamie says, making Angela go still as he leans towards her.

There’s a hairclip on the back of the corsage. Jamie carefully tucks her hair behind her ear and slides the clip just above it. He’s so close to her right now that Angela can see a few nicks on his neck where he shaved, can smell the natural scent of his skin. He’s warm, too, the sort of warmth she wants to wrap herself up in. He’s always so warm.

“There,” Jamie says, leaning away and allowing Angela to breathe again.

“How—how do I look?” she asks, shyly. Jamie’s eyes trail over the corsage, then over her hair, along her jawline. Her face, until he meets her eyes. Angela can feel herself blushing.

“Like a bloody princess,” Jamie says, softly, with this lopsided smile that Angela wishes she could lean over and kiss. “Feel like I should be in a suit of armour just to have the honour of sittin’ with ya.”

Angela giggles, covering her mouth with her hand to hide how insanely flustered she is that he would say something like that.

“I think you’d make an excellent knight,” she says, not one part of her meaning it in jest. Jamie’s smile widens into a big grin.

“Ch’yeah I would!” he says arrogantly, straightening his back. “Already climbed the tower to come get ya! If you’d gone to that bloody prom I’da fought off all your other suitors as well, show ‘em who’s boss around here!”

She wants to be thrilled that he’s flirting with her like this, unwittingly indulging in her secret fairytale fantasy, but Angela doesn’t know if Jamie is actually dating anyone right now. He never mentions anyone else when he visits her like this, but he doesn’t need to—Angela hears enough in the school bathrooms and between classes to know the sort of things he gets up to. The idea of Jamie going to the prom and potentially dancing with other girls, much less doing anything else with them, lights a flame of jealousy in Angela’s chest that licks up into her throat.

“Did—did you go, then?” she asks, trying to swallow it down.

“To the prom? Pfffft,” Jamie says, cringing at her. “Did I fuck. Can’t afford a suit! Didn’t fancy being the only bloke there without one, either.”

Just as relief washes over the jealousy, something even hotter ignites in Angela’s chest when Jamie reaches out to stroke the loose blonde locks on the other side of her face. He does it so gently that most of her hair spills out when he tries tucking it behind her ear, and it hurts, it hurts Angela’s heart that the same hand he used to punch someone could be so delicate and sweet with her now, stirring such a deep and dreadful emotion inside of her.

“Woulda loved seein’ ya lookin’ all dressed up though,” Jamie adds, with that same lopsided smile. His hands are on her thighs again, fingers fanned over her skin. “Even if it meant fightin’ off every other bastard there to have a dance with ya.”

Angela bites her lip, willing herself to be delighted by his words rather than upset by them. She doesn’t think Jamie is doing it to mock her, nor to tease the crush she’s probably hidden so poorly. But she doesn’t want him to think there could be anyone else.

“There wouldn’t have been anyone to fight off,” Angela says. Jamie frowns.

“Huh?”

“Nobody invited me,” she says. It’s humiliating to admit, but she trusts Jamie enough to tell him, even if he might make fun of her for it. “I didn’t have a date.”

“Yeah right,” Jamie snorts. “Pull the other one!”

Angela looks away from him, pinpricks of dread creeping over her. She can feel his eyes on her, staring.

“Ange, what? You really— _nobody_ asked ya?” Jamie says, sounding puzzled. Angela hugs her knees to her chest in some weak effort to protect herself from what she’s about to say.

“Why would anyone want to go with me?” she says, smiling sadly at him.

“Uhhhh!” Jamie says, sputtering. He seems shocked. Offended, even, with his eyebrows knotted together like that. “Is that a genuine question?!”

It is, but it isn’t one she wants him to answer. Dread mounting, Angela tightens her arms around her knees and buries her face to hide from him. The bed shifts under Jamie’s weight, and then she can feel his warmth looming over her, his hands on her shoulders.

“Hey, look, I didn’t mean to—”

“If anyone were to invite me, they’d essentially be inviting my parents too,” Angela says, talking into her lap.

“Oh, fuck off would they! Buncha fucking pussies if they let those tossers stop ‘em!”

Jamie shakes her, coaxing her to let go, but Angela resists, too embarrassed and afraid to look at him.

“If—Jesus, if I knew you didn’t have a date I woulda stolen a fucking suit, kidnapped you, and taken you to that fucking prom myself!”

Angela curls into herself.

“I wish you had,” she admits, quietly.

“What?”

Jamie’s hands freeze on her shoulders. His voice has gone quiet too, frighteningly so.

“What did—what did you just say?”

Angela dares to look up at him. Jamie is gawking at her.

“You shitting me right now? Angie, I—fuck!” he says, sputtering out a laugh. He scratches a hand through his dirty blond hair. “If I thought for one hot _minute_ you’da said yes to me I’dve asked in a heartbeat!”

“Is—is that just because you feel sorry for me?” Angela asks, wincing in anticipation of his answer. Jamie scowls at her, back to looking offended.

“Because I feel sorry for you?! Uh, no, it’s because I can’t think of any other girl I’d wanna wear a fucking suit for!”

He’s breathing quickly and his face is red, like he’s embarrassed about having to admit this. It’s not a confession, not exactly, but it doesn’t have to be for the dread in Angela’s stomach to blossom into hope. But the feeling is short-lived, nothing more than a brief burst of warmth inside her, because the unfortunate reality of Jamie wanting to be her date is that it doesn’t really change anything.

“It—there’s no point in talking about it, anyway, because I wouldn’t have been able to go with you,” Angela says, giving this sad little laugh.

“Why not?” Jamie asks, indignantly.

“Because,” Angela starts, suffocating on what to say. _Because you’re poor. Because you’re a criminal. Because you’re everything my parents hate, and I’ve ended up falling for you anyway._

“Because you’re—”

“I’m what?” Jamie says, scowling. “A delinquent? A scumbag?”

Angela wants to shrink, wants to run away from this terrible thing she’s started, but Jamie doesn’t let her, grabbing her forearms and tugging until she lets go of her knees. She gasps when he takes her wrists, his fingers connecting easily around them to handcuff her, and he pulls her fists against his chest to force her closer to him, until their noses are almost touching.

“Maybe that’s what _they_ think of me, but I don’t give a _fuck_ what they think!” Jamie says, snarling. “And neither should you!”

“They’re—they’re only trying to protect me!”

“From what? From me? The big bad monster who sneaks into your bedroom and gives more of a fuck about you than they ever could?”

Angela tries to wrench away from him, wanting to escape from the earth-shattering prospect of him being right, but Jamie yanks her back again, not flinching even when she yelps.

“They’re my parents, Jamie!”

“They’re cunts!”

Angela trembles under his glare, trying to stop everything she wants to say from pouring out of her.

“Y’know, all y’hafta do is tell me, and I’ll never come here again,” Jamie says, the words ground out. “Say you’re done, and that’s it, we’re done. I’ll stop fucking bothering you, if you’re really _that concerned_ about what your fucking parents might think!”

“No!” Angela says, the threat of tears stinging her eyes. Jamie’s are blazing, his grip painfully tight around her wrists, but his anger falters when a tiny breath of a sob escapes her.

“Jamie,” Angela says, too upset to be embarrassed by the crack in her voice. “I’m almost seventeen years old and I’ve never been allowed to go on a single date, so why should I expect anyone to waste their time on me? I haven’t—haven’t even.”

“What?” Jamie asks, urgently, shaking her hands when she hesitates. Angela’s face creases up.

“I haven’t even had my first kiss yet,” she says, practically whispering it.

Jamie sits back. He blinks as though this has completely stunned him. Then, before Angela has any time to regret telling him, he swoops forward, closing the gap between them and kissing her.

Angela thought first kisses were supposed to be gentle and sweet and touched with hesitance, but this one is angry, forceful, a searing crush of his lips on hers that leaves her breathless when he pulls back.

“Sorry,” Jamie says, a dark murmur against her mouth, “but if you think I was gonna let any other fucker steal your first kiss from me, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Is—is that the only thing you want?” Angela asks, searching his eyes. Jamie balks at her like she’s just slapped him in the face.

“Whaddya fuckin’ mean, is that the only thing I want?!” he asks heatedly, but despite her racing heart Angela needs to hear it, needs to know.

“I thought—thought that you only saw me as a sister,” she says, cowering. If Jamie’s eyebrows went any higher they’d be off his head.

“You—you fucking. You actually, legitimately think.” He barks out an almost manic sounding laugh. “You think I’d climb up here, ask you to prom, fucking— _kiss_ you, if I thought—if I bloody well thought of you as a—as a!”

Apparently too frustrated to finish his sentence, Jamie huffs out a growl instead.

“C’mere!”

He kisses her harder this time, tugging her wrists so forcefully that Angela crumples against him. When his tongue parts her lips she tastes the tobacco in his mouth, and Angela whimpers into it, struggling to comprehend that this is real, that he could really be kissing her like this. Jamie responds by tilting his head and kissing deeper still, like he wants to pour himself into her, quash the doubt and every part of her that ever worried he wouldn’t reciprocate. They’re both breathing heavily when he pulls off again.

“Your first kiss is the _least_ of what I fuckin’ want from _you_ ,” Jamie says, a gravelly, spine-tingling threat, before yanking her into another. Angela jerks her wrists where he’s still gripping them, and when he lets go her arms fly around his back so she can claw desperately at the hoodie covering it. Groaning into her mouth, Jamie surges forward, forcing her legs open around his hips as he pins her to the mattress with the solid weight of his body, and Angela practically dissolves underneath him, because finally being kissed by Jamie is everything, it’s everything she ever could’ve wanted.

“ _Sister_ ,” he says, hissing it over her lips. “You get the highest fuckin’ grades in the year and you thought—”

“I’m sorry, I‘m so sorry,” Angela says, a babbled plea for her obliviousness, for all those nights when they could’ve been kissing like this. Jamie just shushes her, shaking his head.

“Not gonna waste another second doing _anything_ that isn’t kissing you right now,” Jamie says, and then his mouth is on hers again anyway, swallowing down her whimpered attempt at agreement.

Jamie’s kisses are sloppy and reckless, and he only stops when she keeps breaking off to suck in air. Angela isn’t good at this, so inexperienced that their teeth clink occasionally from her misguided efforts to match his movements. Jamie’s dominance makes up for her timidity though, the bristle of his stubble rubbing her chin and jaw as he tilts his head this way and that, tongue hot and wet and hungry on hers. Nobody ever told her that kissing would hurt like this, that Jamie’s stubble would scrape her skin and the weight of his body would force the breath out of her lungs. Nobody ever told her that kissing would be enough to set Angela’s body on fire either, that she would feel so exposed with her thighs spread around his hips even though he’s in jeans and she’s still wearing her shorts.

Jamie sits up for a moment to tug his hoodie off before diving down to her again. Angela braces her hands on his shoulders, but Jamie stops just short of kissing her.

“See what you’ve done to me?” Jamie says, grinning. “Just kissin’ ya is making me hard as a fuckin’ rock.”

Angela breathes out a disbelieving laugh, one that’s cut off when he grinds that hardness into her. She grips the front of his t-shirt, pulling the fabric taut over his shoulders.

“Juh—Jamie,” she says, because she can feel it, the hard bump of his dick pressing between her legs. Oh, god, she can even feel it throbbing. Jamie tilts his head at her, eyes raking over her like he’s sizing up his next meal.

“Sooo… if that was your first kiss, I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you probably haven’t done anything else before, have ya?”

“You mean anything—like this?” Angela asks, shyly, offering a vague nod towards their connected lower halves.

“Ohhh, I think you know _exactly_ what I mean,” Jamie says, punctuating it by grinding his clothed dick into her. Angela’s back arches involuntarily, the rough press of his jeans between her legs so good she almost moans, has to strangle it in her throat. She can’t believe he’s actually—for _her_.

“I haven’t,” Angela says, when she finds her breath. “I’ve never—not with anyone.”

“Hmmm. Good to know, that,” Jamie says, thoughtfully. 

“What makes you say that?”

Liquid heat churns low inside her as Jamie’s hands slide beneath the satin covering Angela’s waist, ruching her nightshirt up to expose her belly.

“’Cause it kinda makes me wanna be your first,” Jamie purrs, smirking at her. It’s a look and a tone that begs submission, as if Angela has any choice, would do anything but submit to him.

“The first for—for what?” she asks, knowing what he’s saying but desperate to hear it regardless.

“Oohhhh, Angie, what a _loaded_ question.” Jamie sits back so that he’s kneeling between her legs, and already Angela misses it, the occasional pulse of his dick pressed against her crotch. “S’far more fun to show than tell y’know.”

Jamie rubs his hands upwards from her belly, stroking the satin of her shirt and making her shiver as he almost-but-not-quite brushes over her breasts.

“Although, having said that… I’d just _love_ to see what your tits look like, for a start,” Jamie says, leering in a way that makes Angela’s stomach knot. He tugs on the first button down from her collar, a movement that tugs between her legs at the same time, and Angela gives a soft, yearning whine for him, aching for more than what he’s giving even though it’s already so far beyond anything she ever imagined happening.

“Reckon they’d feel _great_ in my hands, if y’wouldn’t mind me dirtyin’ ‘em up.”

“I wouldn’t mind that at all,” Angela says, electrified by the prospect of him ever wanting to do something like that to her. The Jamie who comes to visit her has never been the Jamie who seems to get so many girlfriends, even though he is right now.

Gradually, teasingly, Jamie begins unbuttoning her shirt, biting his lip like Angela is a present he’s been waiting all year to open. She tenses when he slowly peels the fabric away from her chest, exposing her breasts.

“Fuck,” Jamie says, breathing it out as his eyes flick over them.

“I’m—I’m sorry they’re not bigger,” Angela says, meekly, horribly self-conscious now that she’s topless underneath him, vulnerable and small where he’s so tall and strong looming over her.

“Nah, y’don’t need ‘em bigger than this,” Jamie says, and Angela gasps when he cups her breasts in each hand. His palms are warm, the skin of his thumbs a little rough as they graze her nipples. “See? Perfect handful. More than enough to play with.”

“Oh, god,” Angela says, squirming from having her nipples touched. Jamie bites his lip again, grinning as he watches them peak.

“Feel good, does it?” he asks, gently teasing them. “Wonder how you’ll like this then.”

He drops down. Angela peers at him over the rapid rise and fall of her chest, watching him kiss her nipples in turn. Jamie’s tongue is as hot and wet as it was in her mouth when it flicks over her right one.

“Ah!”

Jamie snickers, his laugh coming cool on her dampened skin, and as he laps at her nipples Angela has to bite a finger to stop herself from vocalising how good it feels to be touched like this. Jamie bobs his head to take one into his mouth, and Angela gives a soft cry when he sucks, gently, the deep thrum of his _mmm_ ing around her almost unbearably good. There’s a satisfyingly wet sounding pop when Jamie lifts off, and then he’s doing the same to the other one, swirling it, flicking it, sucking a little. All Angela can do is lay there whimpering, back arched and hands gripped in her bedding while she lets Jamie take what he wants.

“Gonna suck these gorgeous fucking tits dry,” he says, a rumbled threat over her skin. His vulgarity is almost shockingly arousing when she’s so used to him being sweet, but the moan Angela gives breaks into a pained cry when Jamie suddenly sucks too hard.

“Ouch!” she says, recoiling. Jamie instantly pushes up from her chest. “That hurt!”

“Shit!” he says, eyebrows knotting. Angela instinctively covers her breasts with her arms and squeezes them against her chest, half to protect herself and half to quell the lingering sting.

“I’m sorry,” she says, humiliated from having to stop him.

“No no, s’my bad! Got a bit ahead of myself,” Jamie says, scratching his neck like a scolded child. It’s strange but comforting to see him looking slightly embarrassed when he’s been perhaps a little overconfident, though Angela knows it’s thanks to that overconfidence that they’ve gotten this far at all.

“Sorry babe,” Jamie says, leaning in to kiss her. It’s tender and slow, a more meaningful apology than the one he offered just now, and Angela isn’t quite as shy about kissing him back, this time, threading her arms around his shoulders to keep him here. Jamie kisses her until she’s softened again, and when he eventually pulls away Angela is smiling, feels better for having the break of more kissing.

“Think I know a way of makin’ it up to ya, if ya want,” Jamie says, his eyes lowered now, lusty.

“You do?”

“Yeah.” Jamie drags a hand down the flat of her tummy, then lower, inch by inch. “’Cause I bet you’ve never had anyone get you off before either, have ya?”

“Nuh—never,” Angela says, that liquid heat from before brought right back to boil. “Would—would you like to try?”

“Try? _Try?_ ” Jamie laughs, a berating note to it that makes Angela want to hide from him. “Ohhh, baby, you are _so_ naïve.”

Jamie repositions so that he’s lying beside her, leaning on his elbow so he can still look down at her. Angela prickles all over in anticipation as his fingers skate across the bare skin of her abdomen, teasing the band of her shorts like he’s going to dip inside—like he might be about to finger her. Angela panics, pressing the flat of her hands on his chest.

“I—but I haven’t shaved, I’m not—”

“So? Doesn’t matter to me.”

“Jamie please, I’m nervous, I don’t—”

His fingers slip beneath the band.

“Please!” Angela says, seizing up.

“Okay okay I won’t, I won’t!” Jamie says, hand snapping back to rest on her abdomen instead. His eyes have gone wide. “Won’t do anythin’ y’don’t want, babe, no need to panic!”

“I do want it! I’m—I’m just.”

“What?”

Angela pauses, afraid of saying it when it sounds so childish in her head. Jamie’s eyes are concerned on hers though, missing the frown she was anticipating from stopping him.

“I’m just scared it’s going to hurt,” she finishes, timidly. Angela tries to look away from him as she says it, but Jamie tilts her chin back to him, nothing ridiculing about his smile at her.

“Eesh, Ange, thought you’d know by now I’d never hurt ya. Not intentionally at least, even though I got a little too, er, enthusiastic with your tits,” he says, laughing. “We don’t hafta do anymore if you’re not comfortable with it, s’no big deal.”

“It is! It is a big deal,” Angela says, alarmed that he thinks she wants to stop completely. “I don’t—I don’t want this to end, I don’t want you to stop.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

Jamie hmms, sucking on his lower lip like he’s carefully planning his next move. Then his hand drops again, resting on top of the ribbon on her shorts.

“Alright, well. How about I just do this instead,” Jamie says, silkily, trailing his hand until he’s actually touching her, the most intimate part of her body, feeling her out through the satin of her shorts. Angela jolts from the incredible rush between her legs when his fingers dip in slightly, but he stills when she tenses up again.

“Not gonna hurt ya, alright? Just trust me.”

“I do,” Angela says, reminding herself that she does, that there’s nobody else she’d rather share herself with.

“So I have permission then, yeah?” Jamie asks, grinning down at her. “Permission to _try_ and make ya come for me?”

“Yuh—yes,” Angela says, shaken that he wants to try, that he’s doing this at all. Jamie starts rubbing her through her shorts, agonisingly slow and deliberate in a way that has Angela writhing into the bedding, body thawing like liquid under his touch. Even Jamie’s gaze feels good where he’s watching her, all lidded eyes like he’s drinking in every movement, every little cry and whimper she has to offer him.

“You’re fucking drenched y’know,” Jamie says, sounding amused. “Might as well be wearing nothing, s’how wet you are.”

Angela doesn’t have a chance to be embarrassed by this, gasping from the spike of pleasure when he presses harder.

“Jamie!” she says, startled by the intensity of it, the white hot rush of being touched _there_.

Jamie’s eyes light up, briefly, before narrowing, and the grin on his face turns wicked, like he’s just found his prize.

“Oohhh, you _really_ like that, don’tcha? Right _here_.”

Angela actually moans out when he kneads her clit again, loud enough for Jamie to shush her, reminding her of where they are. The thrill of having to do this in secret doesn’t seem to be making it any less arousing, though. In fact, rather worryingly, it might even be—

“Juh—Jamie!” Angela says, clamping her thighs around his hand.

“Shhh, babe, gotta keep it down. Can’t have your parents finding out what dirty, no-good Jamison is doing to their precious little angel, can we?”

Jamie has never spoken to her like this before, patronising in a way that makes what he’s doing unfathomably hotter. Suddenly he stops, leaving Angela on the brink when he hoists her thigh up and hooks his arm beneath it. But when he picks up again the new angle somehow makes this even better, has Angela moaning, rolling her hips to get more of it.

“Oohh, you are _noisy_ , aren’t ya!” Jamie hisses. “Didn’t think a _good girl_ like you would make such slutty sounds like that!”

“I’m—I’m not—”

“But y’know, I’d be lyin’ if I said I hadn’t rubbed one out a hundred times already imagining you being a good little slut for me,” Jamie says, dipping down to murmur into her neck. “Bet you’d just suck the cum right outta my dick, wouldn’tcha? Thirsty fucking girl you are.”

“Jamie!” Angela says, an embarrassing mewl of a sound, but Jamie just laughs, apparently pleased to hear it. He’s rubbing aggressively now, rough and in that perfect spot, and it’s making her muscles tense up, the same gradual build when she touches herself.

“Yeah? You like that? Like me saying all these dirty, nasty things to ya?”

“Please,” Angela whines, a plea for him and every dirty nasty thing about him. Her body clenches with a blinding pleasure so good she can’t even breathe for a second, and then a dangerous, uninhibited moan spills out of her mouth as the rush of coming spreads out over her body. Jamie swallows it anyway by kissing her, like even now he’s trying to rescue her, prevent them from being caught. Shifting to pin her with his body again, Jamie drags her aftershocks out even longer by grinding his dick between her legs, just as hard as he was before. He grits his teeth when Angela impulsively pushes her hips back on him, squeezing her thighs where they’re spread around his hips.

“You are _unbelievably_ fucking hot, you know that?” Jamie growls. “Can’t believe you just let me do that to you.”

“I can’t believe you just, just.”

“Just what, huh? Made you come for me? That was a piece of piss,” Jamie says, dismissively. “Thought about it enough fucking times.”

“Oh my god,” Angela says, eyes squeezed shut from how overwhelmed she is to hear this. Then they’re kissing again, hungrily, fighting against lost time and the shared disbelief that seems to have kept them apart. Jamie groans into her mouth when she claws her fingernails over his back, scraping at his shoulder blades, feeling out the strength that’s allowing him to pin her like this. His dick is pulsing, but Angela feels like she’s pulsing too, everywhere, greedy even though she should be grateful they’ve done this much already.

“I want more,” she says, panting it when they break. “Want more of—you, of this, I don’t want to stop.”

“Then maybe you should tell me what you want,” Jamie says, rocking his hips into her, making her head tilt back on a blissful whine.

“I want—I want to do everything with you,” Angela says, afraid to commit to saying it, what she really wants from him right now. In truth, she isn’t sure that she’s ready to go all the way this quickly, but Jamie has made her feel so good and he won’t be able to stay all night. It frightens Angela to think this could be the only opportunity for intimacy, _the_ stolen moment of all the stolen moments they’ve had, because she doesn’t know where this is going, what will happen after Jamie leaves tonight.

“Right, uh.” Jamie pulls away from her, hands braced either side of her head. He squints. “ _Juuuust_ so I’m crystal clear on this, by everything, you _are_ asking me to fuck you, right?”

There it is, finally, the blunt statement Angela has been too shy to make. She tugs on the front of his t-shirt and offers a timid nod, about as scared of him actually doing so as she is excited by it.

“Fucking hell,” Jamie says. He puffs his cheeks and blows out a long, long breath. His lips part as he goes to speak, but then Jamie purses them instead, looking away from her. “Shit.”

Angela can’t understand why he’s considering his answer when it seems very clear that he wants to go all the way. When Jamie does look back at her, her heart sinks from the apology that’s written all over his face.

“Okay, you have _no fucking_ _idea_ how badly I wanna fuck your brains out right now, and I can’t believe I’m even gonna say this, but—I’m not gonna.”

The most alarming thing about this, more than the fact that he’s rejecting her, is how immensely disappointed Angela is by it rather than relieved.

“Why?” she asks, hating the squeak of her voice as she says it. She tugs on his shirt again. “Don’t—don’t you want to?”

“I’ve literally just told you I do!” Jamie laughs, though he’s scowling at her, like he’s hurt that she’s implying otherwise. His dick is still hard and pulsing against her, so Angela doesn’t think he’s lying, but it only serves to confuse her even more.

“Then why can’t you? I don’t understand.”

“Isn’t that I can’t! Holy shit, it’s taking everything I’ve got to stop myself from pounding you into the goddamn bed right now! But, to be honest, that’s sorta… exactly the reason why I _don’t_ wanna do it. ‘Cause I think it’s gonna be a little much for ya. Specially when ya seem so nervous.”

“I’m—I’m not nervous,” Angela says, sort of mumbling, but Jamie laughs her off.

“Yeah, you are. And that’s okay, like I said, isn’t a big deal.” His smile softens, something almost shy about it that Angela isn’t sure she’s ever seen on him before. “Didn’t come here to get my dick wet after all. I came because I wanna take care of ya, ‘cause I sorta feel like it’s my duty to, y’know? Don’t trust anyone else to do it.”

Angela gazes up at him. Jamie’s hands are braced either side of her head, but she feels like he’s undoing her again, peeling open her chest and exposing her heart.

“You make it sound like I’m made of glass,” she says, almost whispering it. “Like you’re too scared to do anything with me in case you break me.”

“Nah, I’m not scared of that,” Jamie says, grin sharpening where it was soft. “Believe me, I am gonna fucking _ruin_ you, Angie. By the time I’m done with you, you’re gonna be a fucking _wreck._ ”

The full-body shudder Angela gets from hearing this is concerning, a feeling that isn’t entirely fear but isn’t entirely arousal, either. Jamie sucks in a breath.

“Buuut we gotta build up to that, ‘cause a girl like you deserves to be treated right. S’gotta be special, y’know? Seein’ as it’ll be your first time. So I think it’s for the best if I don’t, tonight. Even though my dick is _killing_ me for it right now.”

Angela chuckles at this, though it tapers off when Jamie strokes the back of his fingers along her jaw.

“The other problem here is that I have a feeling you’re gonna be _loud_ ,” he adds, smirking. “And as much as I wanna hear that, there isn’t a chance in hell I’m gonna let your parents hear it and ruin your first time.”

“Oh,” Angela says, because she hadn’t thought of that. The full-body shudder is absolutely in fear, this time. “No, I don’t—I don’t want that either.”

“Yeah. So not tonight, but soon, okay? _Very_ soon.”

Jamie holds her eyes, looking hopeful, willing her to believe that he means.

“Okay,” Angela says, smiling, reassured by his easy confidence. She tugs on his t-shirt and tips her chin to let him know she wants to be kissed. Jamie obliges her immediately, spreading his legs to sink lower, until his chest is pressed on hers as he kisses her.

“In the meantime, though… I can show you how good it’s gonna feel when I do,” Jamie says, murmuring over her lips. He rocks into her pointedly, hard enough for Angela to lose her breath. “Think you might like that? A little preview of how it’s gonna feel when I _do_ fuck you?”

“Oh my god, Jamie, I—I’d _love_ that,” Angela says, eyelashes fluttering as Jamie grinds again, harder. She can fully feel the outline of his cock where it’s strained in his jeans, and even though she’s disappointed that she won’t get to actually see or touch it tonight, the feeling alone is incredible, tangible proof of how much he wants her.

Keeping his jeans on, Jamie guides her thighs around his hips and her arms over his shoulders, encouraging her to hold onto him. When he starts moving on her, into her, these powerful, measured thrusts that rock her into the bed, Angela clutches his back and tries to keep her voice down as she gasps and moans and pleads for him, relishing every touch, every second that he’s on top of her.

How can pretending to have sex feel this good? Is this really what it’s going to be like? Fast, powerful thrusts and the weight of his body pressing her down into the bed? He isn’t even penetrating her but it feels so much like he is, like he’s ravaging her entire body, the friction and heat and growling in her ear almost enough to get her off again. Jamie said he was going to ruin her, but Angela feels ruined already, isn’t sure she’s the same person she was even an hour ago. Didn’t think it was possible that the boy who smokes and shoplifts could make her feel this sensual, this wanted, nor that he’d ever want to do these sort of things with her, in her own bed.

Jamie grunts and groans into the delicate skin of her neck, dry-fucking her until he’s on the verge of coming. When he’s too horny to continue without taking things further he flops beside her to make out with her instead. Angela thought she’d be happy with this compromise, his hands on her hips and his tongue in her mouth, but she can feel the wetness left between her legs, the frustrating, pulsing need for more than just kissing and cuddling him. It’s a pulsing that gradually dims, though, and when over an hour passes they’ve been making out for so long that Angela is struggling to keep her eyes open anymore. Even Jamie looks a little sleepy, eyes droopy and smile lazy as he gazes at her. Angela smiles back, amazed that they’re sharing the same pillow right now, that they’ve spent the last however many hours somehow sharing even more than that.

“Should probably head off,” Jamie says, rubbing his thumb over her cheek. “You’re lookin’ like you’re about to drop off.”

“I don’t want you to go,” Angela says, shaking her head. Jamie kisses her when she leans in for another one, but he keeps it brief, like he’s gearing up to say goodbye.

“Nah, can’t keep you up all night, much as I wish I could.”

Jamie starts to move like he’s going to sit up and away from her. Gripped by the panic of him leaving, Angela grabs the front of his t-shirt to stop him. Jamie blinks at her.

“Please,” Angela says, tugging on it, trying to show him how much she needs him. Her lips are swollen from how much kissing they’ve done and her face feels like it’s been rubbed raw from his stubble, but still, she doesn’t want this to end, isn’t prepared to say goodbye to him just yet.  “Please don’t go.”

Jamie’s eyebrows knit together.

“Fuck’s sake, Ange, don’t look at me like that,” he says, pulling her in against him, so that her head is tucked under his chin. “Makes me feel like a right arsehole.”

“I’m not trying to, I just—I wish you could stay.”

“I wish I could stay too. But I can’t, can I? ‘Cause of them. They’re the reason we’re like this in the first place, why I can’t take you to a fucking prom. Why I hafta climb a tree just to fucking—see you at all!”

“I’m sorry, Jamie, I—”

“Why the fuck are you apologising?”

Angela thinks Jamie is going to cuddle into her, squeeze her against him to reassure her that things will be okay. It startles her when he pushes on her shoulders instead, when he sits up, sharply, looking down at her with a thunderous look on his face, making her flinch.

“You think I like leaving? Huh? You think I don’t fucking miss you the second I’m gone? That I don’t wanna carry you out with me, steal you away from those fucking cunts keeping you locked up in here?”

“Jamie, they’re my parents, they—”

“FUCK your parents!” Jamie says, so loudly that Angela frantically shushes him. They freeze for a second, waiting, listening for any sign of activity downstairs. Thankfully nothing comes.

“Jesus!” Jamie says, practically spitting it. He isn’t looking at her anymore, grinding his temples in his hand. Angela has gone from blissful happiness to verging on tears. “I’d carry you outta here myself if you’d bloody well let me!”

“You know I can’t,” Angela says, swallowing against the sob creeping up her throat, but this only seems to incense Jamie even more, the lines between his eyebrows sharp and deep when he glares at her.

“Why can’t I? 'Cause I would y’know, I’d get you outta here right here and now and they wouldn’t have a goddamn clue!”

Angela’s face creases up. Jamie’s scowl loosens. There’s so much she wants to say to him, so much that needs to be said, but it’s overwhelming, too much to even begin unpacking right now.

“Fuck me, you’ve no bloody idea how hard it is saying goodbye to you!” Jamie says, huffing it out as grabs her close again, holding even tighter this time. Angela starts crying against his chest for all the time they’ve wasted, for the time that will be wasted in the weeks and months to come.

“Don’t cry, Angie, please, you’re fucking—you’re killing me here,” Jamie says, a hint of a whimper to it that has Angela crying harder. “Look, I’ll stay for a bit longer, okay, just please, _please_ stop crying!”

Angela stifles her sobs into the ratty fabric of his t-shirt, trying to feel grateful that Jamie isn’t going just yet, and Jamie pets her hair, rocking her against him and shushing her until her tears ebb.

She knows they’re on stolen time. Not just tonight, as the minutes tick by towards morning, but permanently, the timer until Angela is due to leave for university an ever present shadow hanging over her. She’s absolutely terrified of the goodbye she knows is coming, doesn’t want to exist outside this perfect bubble of secret kisses they’ve created where time stops and all that matters is each other. Lying in her bed with Jamie after everything they’ve done tonight, Angela clings helplessly onto him, onto this, these secret kisses and stolen touches, feeling like the two of them are on a little raft together, adrift in the sea of their uncertain futures. Angela doesn’t want to ever say goodbye to Jamie, tonight or when she leaves school.

“S’almost four am babe,” Jamie says, murmuring into her hair when it’s been a few minutes and Angela isn’t crying anymore. Tentatively he presses back on her shoulders, looking at her with wide eyes like he’s scared she might start crying again. “Much as I wanna stay, it’s too risky for ya.”

“Okay,” Angela says, voice weak from crying. “I—I know.”

“Besides that, you need to sleep, and I _seriously_ need to rub one out. Almost came in my fucking pants like, ten times earlier.”

Somehow Angela manages a little laugh at this, one that makes Jamie smile. He brushes his thumb over her cheek again.

“I’ll be seein’ ya soon. Gonna have a hard time keeping me away after tonight, specially with what I’ve got planned for ya. So no need to go worrying.”

Angela sniffles, holding his gaze and matching his smile as best she can.

“You promise?” she asks, delicately.

“Of course I fucking promise,” Jamie scoffs. “I’d like to see _anyone_ try and fucking stop me!”

Angela feels as though she’s pulling herself out a dream when they peel themselves off the bed. Her body feels lighter now that Jamie isn’t on top of it, colder without his hands on her. Bare, almost, like she’s missing a vital piece of herself, a piece she didn’t realise she even had until tonight.

“Thank you for staying,” Angela says, clutching her arms and feeling horribly detached from him as she watches him pull his sneakers on. “I wish it wasn’t like this.”

Jamie straightens up, exhaling through his nose. Angela flinches, afraid he’s going to get angry again, but he just smiles sadly at her, instead.

“So do I,” Jamie sighs. “Every goddamn, fucking day.”

“I’m sorry,” Angela whispers, but Jamie shakes his head, reaching out to stroke her hair behind her ear. He looks at the corsage, briefly, before his eyes meet hers again. A silent moment passes where he just seems to look at her, eyes narrowed slightly as though he’s searching for something.

“Y’know I meant it when I said I’d steal you,” Jamie says, flatly. “Wasn’t bluffing. I would in a second, if you wanted me to.”

“Jamie,” Angela says, eyes darting to the floor space beneath them, but Jamie tips her chin up.

“No, I mean it. Just say the word and I’ll do anything. I’ll be the villain, if that’s what they want. If literally kidnapping you is what it takes to get you outta here. I’ll be your—fuck, Angie, I’ll be your fucking knight. And I’ll come and fucking save you from this as many times as it takes.”

Angela chokes on whatever it is that’s stuck in her throat. Her heart, quite possibly, though it feels more as though Jamie has taken that from her, or maybe that he’s about to borrow it until he returns. She doesn't care if he's the hero or the villain, both or neither. All she cares about is whether or not he's hers.

“I want—I want you to be all of those things,” Angela says, when she can’t quite bring herself to ask.

“Then I will be,” Jamie says. He takes her hand, brings it to his lips. Jamie kisses her knuckles, nothing more than a soft, sweet brush over them, and he holds her gaze the entire time he does. “I’ll be anything you want me to be.”

He tugs her forward by hand to seal it with a kiss, and then they cuddle goodbye, a long one that Angela tries to absorb into her, an attempt to hold onto the heat of his body until she gets to see him again.

Jamie perches on the window ledge. He cups her jaw in his palm, tilting it gently, carefully, looking over her face. Then he brings her into one last kiss, and when they part Angela watches him climb back down the tree, curtains clutched in her hands. She blows him a kiss when he touches down safely on the grass again, trying to ignore the aching left in her body, the dread of her prewritten future that’s drawing nearer, day by day.

But at least for now, until that future arrives, at least Angela has another visit to look forward to—a knight in shining armour looking back at her from the dark clouds on the horizon.


End file.
